


there's bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway

by siwona



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Language of Flowers, M/M, Past Infidelity, Slow Burn, Trans Character, bit of an age difference. 7 year age difference., florist lancelot, ill add tags as i go along. including relationship tags., just wait till the other characters come in. it gets wild., meanwhile lancelot is the sweetest man alive, single parent lancelot, tattoo artist marie, tattoo artist yan qing, trans girl mash, trans man yan qing, yan qing is a thot btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siwona/pseuds/siwona
Summary: At age 34, Lancelot uprooted his life to purchase an empty shop front in a small town miles away from his hometown, dragging his moody daughter along with him. With his new flower shop, he resolved to move on from the past and finally heal.The neighboring tattoo artists might have just the thing to help him. Especially Yan Qing, who seemed to be worming his way into Lancelot's life— and his heart.





	1. daffodils

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like that summary belongs on the back of a romance novel. thonk emoji
> 
> anyway its finally here! my sweet sweet baby. ive spent hours with my fiance coming up with ideas surrounding this one au, theres so much i want to explore. there are so many characters in here & i probably wont list them all because not every one of them has an important role. but honestly, this fic is just a lot of fun so im happy to share it with others!
> 
> welcome to my super rarepair, yancelot, & one of my fav tropes, florist/tattoo artist au.
> 
> here are some things to be aware of:  
\- yan qing is a trans man. its not explicitly stated (& neither are many of the other orientations in this fic, besides marie & lancelot & possibly mordred, if i decide to go into that) but hes had top surgery & its possible to see his scars if someone looked closely enough. (lancelot notices in this very chapter!)  
\- i havent brought it up yet but mash is a trans girl. i might never bring it up, besides mentions of misgendering. idk. we'll see when we get there.  
\- in the notes, i will warn for certain things i know squick ppl out at the beginning of each chapter, if necessary.  
\- the rating might bump up later, but im not sure yet! its mature for future suggestive themes i know will show up tho.  
\- this fic isnt finished & i am self-aware enough to know that updates wont be fast LOL just a warning
> 
> that should be it! hope u enjoy!

When Lancelot moved to his new home in Chaldea, he didn’t have much time to think about his neighbors. He was too busy unpacking, setting everything up just right, making displays that popped and making sure all of his flowers came unharmed before placing his best in the window. Even before that, he made sure his teenage daughter Mash was enrolled in school and adjusting well— though by her current silent treatment, he thought that that part might not be going as smoothly as he’d hoped.

So by the time he opened up his brand new flower shop for the first time, he’d almost forgotten that he’d had neighbors. And of course he had to greet them immediately! For a moment, he worried about not having a gift to bring, but the realization hit him soon enough. Flowers were a perfect gift!

Soon, Lancelot was standing outside of a shop, staring at the fancy white script that said, “My Tattoos,” and then the garish gold print that said, “& Piercings,” in a much bigger size right below it, almost covering the script above. Strange, but then again, they were artists. Lancelot knew an artist and thought himself very prepared.

Small bouquet of daffodils in hand, he stepped inside, letting the bell above the door announce his entrance. Immediately in front of him was a small, young lady smiling gently his way, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Hello,” he said, stepping up to the receptionist’s desk, “my name is Lancelot. I just moved in next door— I own the new flower shop on this street— and thought I should introduce myself to the neighbors.” He held out the flowers.

The woman clapped her hands together, seemingly delighted. “Are those for us? That’s very sweet of you!” She took the flowers, holding them carefully as if afraid to damage them. “Well, Lancelot, it’s certainly nice to meet you! My name’s Marie, and I own this tattoo parlor with two others. One of them is out at the moment, but I can call the other over for you to meet, if you’d like?” Without waiting for a response, she called out, “Yan Qing!”

Marie, delicate and gentle, was a sharp contrast to the man who stepped out from the back. His hair was dark, sleek, and long, reaching his backside, and he wore a mesh shirt that showed off the intricate tattoos all over his upper body. His brow furrowed at the sight of Lancelot, and he glanced at Marie. “New client?”

“No, it’s our new neighbor! Yan Qing, this is Lancelot. Lancelot, Yan Qing. I’m going to find a vase for these flowers; I’ll be right back!”

And Marie was gone faster than Lancelot could blink, leaving him alone with a man that already seemed to hate him. “It’s very nice to meet you, Yan Qing,” he said anyway, because he wasn’t raised to be rude. “I like your tattoos.”

“Because of the flowers, right?” The tone of Yan Qing’s voice was polite, but something about it seemed a little… off. Did he hate Lancelot so much that he couldn’t even hide it? How would you fix something like this? “Want a closer look?”

Lancelot blinked in surprise. “Is that alright? I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable or anything…” He cut himself off as Yan Qing promptly removed his shirt. Flushed from the sudden sight of a half-naked man, even though he agreed to see it, he stepped closer, peering at Yan Qing’s chest. He glanced at the scars there for a bit, noticing how some of the tattoos were made to cover them, before his eyes moved back to the flowers, enraptured. “They’re gorgeous. Did you do them yourself?” He managed to tear his eyes away to look back at Yan Qing’s face and caught a strange expression that disappeared in an instant.

“It’s a little hard to tattoo myself on the chest,” Yan Qing chuckled, “but I did make sure the design was exactly how I pictured it before it was done, so... close enough?” He licked his lips, and Lancelot realized how close they had become and took a step back, blushing. Yan Qing went back to the hostile glare he had before. “You new to town? I can show you around.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to bother you!” Lancelot took a few more steps back, watching with apprehension as Yan Qing’s frown deepened.

When Marie came back with the vase, Lancelot almost sighed in relief. It was hard to get along with someone who disliked him as soon as he saw him! Maybe Lancelot just caught him at a bad time, but he didn’t want to make Yan Qing’s mood any worse. “I should get going, but it was nice to meet you two. Feel free to stop by anytime.”

“You too,” he managed to catch Marie call out as he rushed out the door, as well as a not-very-quiet, “I think you scared him off,” but he didn’t stick around long enough to hear the response.

He hoped he’d be able to get Yan Qing to think of him fondly in the future.


	2. rainflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yan Qing visits Lancelot's shop for the first time, & Mash has something to bring up with her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont like the fact that the first chapter is less than 1k so im posting the second chapter too LOL mash is here now! she might seem a little ooc here but for good reason!
> 
> warning for depressing & anxious thoughts, guilt, & not the best coping mechanisms.

The moment Yan Qing stepped into the flower shop, the glare on his face faded away into a polite smile. Lancelot could still see the aggravation in his eyes, but there was a little hope in his heart. Maybe this meant that the other day really was just a bad time!

“Yan Qing, hello! How are you?” Lancelot greeted. Hopefully, the more amiable he was, the more Yan Qing would reciprocate.

Yan Qing wore yet another mesh shirt today, with shorts that exposed tattooed thighs. The art was just as gorgeous as what Lancelot had seen before, but staring at someone’s bare thighs for an extended period of time was just a bit too indecent for him. Yan Qing gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher before responding with, “Do you have any zinnias? A client of mine had an idea for a tattoo, but I have no idea what those things look like.”

Lancelot perked up. If it was a discussion about flowers, he was peachy keen! “Yes, they’re over here near the back. Is it alright if I ask about the tattoo?”

“Uh, sure.” Yan Qing followed him closely, stepping around random flower pots that Lancelot hadn’t gotten around to putting away. “It’s not a secret or anything. The guy just wanted to get his friend’s name in fancy script with some zinnias.”

Lancelot nodded sagely. “Remembrance.” His feet kicked up dirt and fallen leaves as he walked. He was going to have to sweep later. Maybe he should hire someone to help out once business started picking up.

“Sorry, what?”

“Remembrance,” he repeated, stopping next to the zinnias. “That’s one of the meanings of the flower.”

Yan Qing scrunched up his nose, picking up one of the pots to get a better look. His face in that moment looked very young, and Lancelot wondered how old he was, how he got where he was now. “Flowers have meanings?” He twisted the pot around as if he could find the meaning from looking at the flower. What a cute gesture.

Lancelot laughed softly, hiding his smile behind his hand when Yan Qing looked up at him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. Yes, depending on the culture, flowers can have several different meanings. Like the red roses on your chest commonly symbolize true love. That’s the biggest one, I think. The color can even change the meaning.”

Yan Qing hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s why so many people get tattoos of flowers. I just thought it was because they’re pretty.” He peered over at Lancelot, sizing him up. “You got any tattoos?” When Lancelot shook his head, he frowned and started to make his way back to the front, pot in hand. “Well, how about coming to me for one? I’m apparently the expert at flowers there, and I assume that’s what you’d get.”

He wasn’t wrong. Lancelot was a simple man.

“Oh, I couldn’t…”

“What flowers do you like?” Yan Qing set his pot on the counter next to the register and looked at the flowers Lancelot had put there earlier. “How about these? What do they mean?”

Lancelot couldn’t help but tense up at the sight, and he could tell Yan Qing noticed. “Um. Not those,” he said. The flower was certainly pretty enough, but the meaning, the  _ memories _ he associated with them were… not something he’d want immortalized on his body. Dandelions would be better.

He should get rid of those rainflowers. He came here to forget, not to continue his one-man pity party that he’d been doing for the past fifteen years.

“One of the meanings of them is atonement for your sins.”

Yan Qing’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but thankfully, he recovered quickly, saying, “Something a little more cheerful, then?” His eyes roamed around the shop, settling on a premade bouquet nearby. “Like sunflowers? If sunflowers have some terrible meaning, I’d feel a little betrayed, I think.”

Lancelot laughed, placing the rainflowers away and finally ringing Yan Qing’s purchase up. “I haven’t heard of any bad meanings, but it’s possible.” He smiled at the other man’s incredulous look. The fact that they could joke around like this meant that maybe Yan Qing didn’t completely dislike him. Maybe Lancelot read him wrong.

And then the glare was back on Yan Qing’s face. “Come by the shop more often,” he said, his words at odds with his expression. “Marie adores you.”

With a flush, Lancelot nodded, and he gave a hasty, “Have a good day!” as Yan Qing walked out the door. Sighing, he drooped onto the counter, wondering. Was it possible that Yan Qing was just bad at expressing himself?

Well, that was something Lancelot had to find out for himself, he supposed.

At home, he was greeted with the smell of a delicious home-cooked meal, and he sighed in relief. He was still getting used to the long hours at the shop, and if his daughter didn’t cook, they were usually stuck getting takeout. It wasn’t healthy, especially for a growing girl, but they would only have to put up with it for a little while longer.

“I’m home, Mash,” he said fondly. “Thanks for dinner again.”

Mash set the table, avoiding his eyes. Was that a flash of guilt he saw? “Sure, no problem,” she said quickly.

Completely out of character. Where was the usual admonishment? There was no way Mash would be nice to him unless she wanted something.

Perhaps it was dangerous to let her continue to think she was good at lying.

Deciding to leave it be for now, Lancelot sat down at the table, heaping food (suspiciously, all some of his favorites) onto his plate. He ignored Mash’s obvious sigh of relief and started up a one-sided conversation about his day. Once they finished, he got up to take their empty plates to the sink, busying himself with putting away leftovers. “So how was your day, Mash?”

“Good,” she replied blandly. She spent a few more moments fidgeting with her hands before speaking again. “I would like to go out this weekend.”

Lancelot frowned. She was this nervous about asking him to drive somewhere? “Of course I’ll take you. Where did you want to go? Going to hang out with some new friends?”

“Ah, no…. It’s… a diner about an hour away. To meet with Mom.”

Oh. She was buttering him up for  _ this _ .

Blankly, he stared at his daughter, unmoving, unblinking. He came to this town to get away, to move on from a decades-long heartache, a scab he ripped open day after day, refusing to heal. He couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t _ , see her again, not like this, not when he still felt so foolish, not when he knew that all of his resolve would crumble in her presence—

_ Lancelot _ , she had said, tone patronizing as if he was a child and not the father of hers,  _ that was a mistake— _

“Dad?”

Lancelot blinked, coming back to himself in an instant, clenched fists relaxing. A smile rose to his face, small and kind and reassuring, as he looked into his daughter’s face, her eyebrows knitted with worry. As if he hadn’t just frozen up for who knew how long, he repeated, “Of course I’ll take you.” He turned away to get started on the dishes, his mind carefully emptied of all thoughts besides the task in front of him.

Mash hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” she said, quietly, “thank you. I’ll give you the details later.” Another pause, and then she headed back to her room, footsteps fading away until the closing of door left Lancelot alone with the rush of water and clinking of plates.

  
His daughter shouldn’t have to pick up the pieces of her father. She had the right to see her mother, to  _ have _ a mother, no matter how he felt about her now. He would not take that from Mash.


End file.
